


Helium in Limbo

by dracox_serdriel



Series: Another Chance at the Brass Ring, or Season 9 Fan Fiction [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Little More Human, Alternate Season/Series 09, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Avalon - Freeform, Being a Prophet Sucks, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Curses, Destiel - Freeform, Elves, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fairies, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Gen, M/M, Mild Language, Monster mash, Mugging, New Sheriff in Town, Old School, Slash, Struggle against prejudice, Urban Legends, Urban Legends Bite Back, on the road, rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracox_serdriel/pseuds/dracox_serdriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters must deal with Naomi dropping in on them, and a particularly odd case arises in St. Clair, Michigan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tramontane

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** : All episodes through 08x20 Pac-Man Fever.

**St. Clair, Michigan**. Megan Thibodeau strutted down the street, peacocking her finest jewelry. She easily stood out in her long, black coat and refined clothing.

A dozen local thugs slid their eyes by her. Had they taken more time, they would not have walked away from her. But they didn't take the time, so to them she was just a lost little kid in a silly winter jacket. They probably assumed the coat was a hand-me-down from an older brother or the like. 

Admittedly, the latter was true. Her overcoat was originally her father's, and though it was a fine coat, its age showed. She wore the coat whenever she went out because it was warm and had many pockets. It seemed the right idea at the time.

No one approached her. She waited.

Her eyes drifted to a window display of television screens, all of which had the local news playing with subtitles. She read, "Local muggings attributed to an adult person approximately four feet tall, wearing an elaborate costume."

Megan rolled her eyes. The local news channel was so afraid of being called out for prejudice and bigotry that they couldn't bring themselves to use the words 'little person.' No, they used 'adult person' and presented a measurement. Would they supplement race by an approximation of skin pigmentation? No, but when it came to people like her, most remained afraid and awkward. 

She straightened herself out. She didn't have time to shake her fist at the annoyances of the world. All the recent muggings took place in this area, and she needed to keep an eye out for this person dressed in a crimson superhero costume. Megan figured it was probably just some kid who hadn't hit puberty yet and seen too many comic book movies.

Click-clack. Click-clack. The sound came from heavy-heeled boots, which caught Megan's eye because they were red with a black fur trim. She looked up in time to see a person slightly shorter than her barreling forward. 

Horror crashed into her bones as she met the flashing red eyes of her assailant. She screamed as he threw her to the ground and pilfered her necklace and ring. He laughed. It was a throaty laugh that elevated to a high whine at the end, and before she had time to calculate what had happened, he disappeared. 

"Are you okay?" someone asked, rushing to her aid.

"Did that just happen?" Megan asked no one in particular.

 

"Cas, you need to get outa here," Dean insisted. 

"Dean – " Sam pulled his brother back.

"The last time this bitch was near him, he was nearly killed. She's pinned an assassin's bull's-eye to his back!" Dean protested. 

"Enough," Cas huffed, keeping his voice low. "Unless one of you possesses the ability to heal her body, there's really no discussion."

Dean rolled his eyes and made no effort to disguise his disdain. "Cas, if she comes around – "

"Does she look like she will?" Cas interrupted, demanding an answer. "This isn't a ruse, Dean. She's going to die."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Dean asked. "After everything she's done – "

"Would you let your brother die?" the angel asked. "Because you haven't done that so far, no matter what has happened."

Sam edged his way out of the conversation under the pretense of checking Naomi's vitals. He didn't want to be engrained in their couple's squabble. 

"She has a pulse," Sam said, daring a glance at Castiel and Dean. Neither seemed ready to back down.

The younger Winchester took the key to the bunker out of his pocket and held it out to Cas. 

"Thank you," the angel said. Without explanation, he took the key. "I will wait there until you get there, or until you call." 

With that, Cas reached out and touched Naomi. All her broken bones mended; her skin knitted together. She gasped for air, and Cas teleported. 

"Way to back me up Sam," Dean growled.

"How about we focus on the fact that someone beat the crap out of her," Sam pointed out. "That's not an easy feat, Dean. She's supposed to be well-guarded and crap, right? Up in Heaven?"

"Well, yeah – "

"Then why was she dropped from the sky outside our motel room?" Sam continued, plowing over his brother's protests with the loudness of his voice. "We finish the Angel Trials, get visited by a long-lost archangel, and then this? Call me crazy, but I think we need to figure this out."

"Wha- where am I?" Naomi asked, sitting up.

Something was different about her. Her eyes seemed bluer, her expressions softer. Sam recognized confusion emanating from her, projected outward without control.

"Naomi?" Sam asked. Dean hated the genuine concern his brother had for her.

"Where is she?" Naomi asked.

"Who?" Dean asked her.

"Naomi," she replied.

"You're not Naomi?" Sam asked.

"No, I'm Brandy. Brandy Snodgrass."

"Brandy?" Dean mumbled.

Sam swatted his brother as he said, "Brandy, do you know what's going on?"

"Naomi, she asked me to, uh... she asked me to – "

"Be her Angel sock puppet," Dean suggested.

"Her vessel," Brandy replied. "What year is it?"

"It's January twenty fourteen," Sam replied. "When did Naomi take you as a vessel?"

"In two thousand ten," she said. "Do you have anything to eat?"

 

They were the only customers in the local dinner at five in the morning. Sam consistently had to restrain Brandy from eating too much. 

"Sorry, I haven't eaten in four years," she said each time.

After three orders of pancakes and eggs, the color returned to her cheeks. Brandy Snodgrass had kind eyes, a pleasant smile, and a demure nature. It felt strange, having known Naomi through this same vessel, to see how very different Brandy the person looked from her angelic counterpart, even in the same skin.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Sam asked. 

"Well, not really," she replied. "I wasn't really, you know, aware of everything. I knew stuff was happening, and screaming, and – "

"Torture," Dean said casually. There was an edge to his voice that Naomi deserved, but Brandy certainly didn't.

"I think there was torture," Brandy replied. She seemed uncertain if she should continue, but she did anyway. "She gave me a message to give to you. She wasn't supposed to do that. Halfway between dropping me off and Heaven she was seized or something."

"And the other angels just let you drop like a rock?" Dean asked.

"Actually, I think that was Naomi. If they took both of us back up there, they could erase my memory or whatever and you wouldn't get the message."

"You're okay with that?" Dean asked.

"Not particularly," Brandy said dryly. Her eyes met Dean's and became very sharp. "And you can take your attitude and shove it."

"Don't – "

"Your beef is with Naomi, not me," Brandy continued. "So lighten up, okay?"

Dean mused. 

Sam pushed ahead, "What was the message?"

"Something's happening that they," Brandy indicated Heaven by pointing up, "don't want you to know. Actually, a crap load of stuff."

"Like what?"

"I can't be completely sure about this one, but something to do with a woman you know," she said to Sam. "And visions."

"What about her?" Sam asked, realizing immediately that she was referring to Dodge. 

"I know Heaven knows about it, and that's pretty much it," Brandy said. "Wasn't supposed to know that, but held onto it anyway."

"What's the message Naomi wanted us to have?"

"Before the Great Lever was pulled, something happened. It shook the foundations of Heaven, like an earthquake. She told me that whatever cause that did substantial damage to Hell. Collapsed in parts of it or something."

"We already know about that, the rabbit holes into Purgatory," Dean dismissed. 

"No you don't," Brandy replied. "She showed me something, a mental image. These holes – "

"Rabbit holes," Sam offered.

"Rabbit holes, right. Imagine those holes splinter apart and a giant sinkhole opens in their place. That's what's happened."

Sam gaped at her. Brandy examined his expression and said simply, "It looks like you've never heard worse."

"Well, that's pretty bad," Sam replied.

"Is it?" 

"Seriously?" Dean cut in. 

Brandy shrugged and took another sip of her coffee.

"Okay, well, what does it mean?" Dean asked. "This Hell sinkhole?"

"Dunno. Naomi wanted to warn you about it, so I imagine it isn't good."

"And, what, the other angels didn't want her to tell us?" Sam asked. 

"Her orders were to tell no one," Brandy replied. "I don't know why, but it was hardcore. She was scared. Well, as scared as Naomi can be."

"Scared about what?" Sam asked.

"I can't really be sure. It felt like she was afraid of everything."

"What does that mean?" Dean demanded. "Com'on! You're human, lady! Why are you talking like an angel?"

"Have you ever been possessed by an angel, Dean?" Brandy asked. 

"No."

"I have," Sam said. 

"You remember what it was like?" 

"Only bits and pieces," Sam said quietly. 

"Now imagine that for four years. See how good your memory is or how good your people skills are."

"You remember anything else?" Dean asked. "Naomi mention if you were here to stay or what?"

"No, nothing, but it was a bit of a violent exit for her."

Sam changed the topic, "You have any family? Anywhere to go?"

"Uh, no," Brandy said.

"What you just want to ship her home?" Dean asked Sam. "After all the crap that went down with Jimmy?"

"Jimmy?" she asked.

"Castiel's vessel," Sam explained. "But that was before the Gates of Hell were closed."

"Where did you live? Before, I mean," Dean asked her.

"Fairfax, Virginia."

"Then I vote you head out west," Dean commented mildly. "Start a new life."

"And what do I do about not paying my taxes for four years?" Brandy asked. 

"Coma," Dean replied simply.

"You're bad at this," she jabbed. 

"I think Dodge can help out with this," Sam said. "She works for the FBI. She can help with your legal identity."

Dean laughed. Neither Sam nor Brandy seemed to appreciate it. "Sorry, it's just, do you think any of this is worth it? Naomi can drop back into your skin at any time," Dean pointed out. "You go to all that trouble, get the FBI involved, then disappear again? Seems like a can of worms that didn't need to be opened."

"She can't," Sam spoke up. "Naomi would have to get Brandy's permission to use her vessel again."

"I don't know about that, but she won't. She's been banded from the Earth."

"Banned from the Earth?" Dean repeated.

"That's what I just said. She's grounded in Heaven."

"For how long?" Sam asked. 

Brandy shrugged. "Forever? How should I know?"

"Oh-kay then," Dean said. "Let's get you packed up and on your way."

Sam pulled out his phone and dialed up Dodge.


	2. Flesh Wound

**Outside of Washington, D.C.** Dean waited in a ramshackle diner. He rifled irritably through the news articles before him, but he wasn't really reading anything. His brain distracted his eyes. 

Sam had been gone for three hours. Where the hell was he?

Dean didn't like waiting, and he hated the fact that Sam was casually chatting with someone from the FBI. How could Sam trust this woman? And Naomi's sock puppet Brandy was now involved. 

"More coffee?" the waiter asked pleasantly. She smiled at him, and the warmth in her eyes wasn't about coffee. Dean smiled back. 

Immediately he felt guilty, and he hardened his expression. "Yeah, coffee, please," he said gruffly.

She refilled his cup and left. That's when an article caught his attention.

ATTACKED BY A MASKED MAN: MORE THAN JUST A MUGGING. The headline lacked spunk, weird, and confusion, yet something about it caught Dean's eye. He read on.

"Find anything good?" Sam asked as he joined Dean at the table. 

"Found a case," Dean replied. "We should go now."

"Right now?"

"Yeah, there a problem?"

"Dean, I just sat down."

"We need to get to the Bunker and pick up Cas before we head out to St. Clair, Michigan – "

"How about I order something, eat, you tell me about what's going on?" Sam suggested as he pulled out the menu pinned along the booth's wall. 

"Sam – "

"What's the case?" Sam interrupted.

"Someone's mugging people in a superhero costume, from the sound of it," Dean replied. "But according to this article, the first three people mugged by this guy ended up in the loony bin a day or two after the attacks."

The waiter came back and asked Sam if he wanted something. He ordered a chicken Caesar salad. Dean rolled his eyes.

"So you think this is a case? Why?" Sam asked. "Someone attacks you in a costume, you might feel a little crazy."

"Not just crazy," Dean said. "According to this article, the first victim had a minor injury from the mugging. In the next two days, someone totaled her car, and she almost died in an office fire."

"Sounds like bad luck," Sam said, his interest increasing. 

"More than that, now she's laid up in the hospital with extreme paranoia. Same with the other two victims; both had a streak of bad luck to rival that Hoodoo-cursed rabbit's foot thing."

"Okay, do you really think this is a case, or do you just want an excuse to drag me away and prevent me from spending any more time with Dodge?"

"Tomato/tomato," Dean replied curtly.

 

 **On the road somewhere in Indiana**. Sam missed driving the Impala ever since he got his pickup, but he'd happily trade the wheel to stem off Dean's temper tantrum.

"How can you even say that, Cas?" Dean barked into his phone. "We need you on this case!"

"No, I need to stay here and research the possible causes of the sinkhole, as you called it, created in Hell," Cas replied. "You should head straight to your destination."

"Cas – "

"No, Dean. Don't waste any time. If you've found a case, please pursue it. I'll work with Kevin on what the ramifications may be for Hell."

"You don't think this case is important enough for you to tag along?" Dean asked. "Or are you mad at me and can't figure out why because you have the emotional development of a ten-year-old?"

Sam muttered to himself, "Cas wouldn't be the only one."

"I think you're not taking Naomi's message seriously enough," Cas replied levelly.

"Gee I wonder why," Dean snarled. "Cas, we're talking about the bitch who messed with your head and tried to kill you. A lot. Taking her seriously is against my DNA at this point."

"I want you to know I appreciate the sentiment, but Naomi risked more than her life to deliver a message to you and Sam. The fact that her vessel was abandoned speaks to the depth of her punishment."

"You appreciate my sentiment but don't care?" Dean asked. "You could have just said that."

"Dean – " Cas began.

Dean hung up. "Bastard," he commented. 

"Chill out," Sam said.

"We've got a case in Michigan and it's like he doesn't care!" Dean barked. 

"I'm sure that's what it is," Sam said sarcastically. "I'm sure he has no reason to stay at the bunker besides protecting Kevin and researching Naomi's message. Right?"

"Shut up."

 

 **St. Clair, Michigan**. Megan walked out of the hospital, completely unaware of her own body. She felt like she'd been fighting her whole life for rights, dignity, and respect. For some reason those ideas seemed ridiculous to her now, and she had no idea why. 

Something moved out of the corner of her eye; whatever it was, it moved quickly. She stopped and took a moment to look around herself. Nothing was there. 

She looked both ways before crossing the small street between the hospital and the parking lot. Given that it was a weekday morning, it seemed crowded. Too many people were coming and going – 

BAM! Mid-thought, Megan felt her body thrust into the air, as if she did a somersault. Streaks of darkness entered her periphery; at first she thought it was dizziness. But then she noticed the darkness moved. Something was moving on the edge of her vision. 

She turned her head in time to see the car barreling towards her. The driver tried to swerve to avoid her body, which was now mid-air, but it was too late. She hit the windshield, the car's hood, then the ground. 

"Ms. Thibodeau!" someone cried. 

Before she blacked out, she saw the dark shapes move over her. They looked similar to her assailant, but they seemed like vapor or shadow. Both of them had the same chilling blue eyes and cruelly sharp smile.

As she passed out, she heard laughter that permeated her body. It was a deep, loud sound with an edge, like the scratching sound made on a chalkboard with nails.

 

"Agents Colin and Burgess," Sam said as he showed the woman his badge. "You are Ms. Thibodeau?" 

"Yes," Megan replied. 

"We're here investigating the recent attacks," Dean continued. "We heard you were the most recent mugging victim of – "

"The Red Shadow," she replied.

"Sorry?" Sam said.

"That's what they're calling him now, the Red Shadow," Megan replied. "He's dressed in red but no one can catch him."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"You had an accident earlier today," Sam pushed ahead. "What do you remember?"

"I, uh, looked both ways," she began. "Nothing. No cars, nothing. So I crossed. Maybe I was going too slow, I don't know. But suddenly I was hit."

"Witnesses said you leapt straight up in the air," Dean said. "Doctors say if you hadn't done that, you'd be dead. You remember jumping?"

"I know I was in the air, but I don't remember how," she replied. "I know I hit my head a few times, but – "

"Ms. Thibodeau, you're the fourth victim to this Red Shadow guy," Dean began. "And all four of you have had the kind of bad luck that lands someone in – "

Sam cut Dean off with a sharp look. 

"What my partner here means is that we're concerned that these initial attacks had wider implications," Sam began. "But we don't know what those are yet."

"Wider implications?" she asked.

"Muggings don't usually cause people to check into a mental health care facility," Sam said with as much sympathy as he could muster. "But this Red Shadow guy? His last three victims are all there. That's unusual."

"You can say that again," she replied gruffly.

"Have you noticed anything, and I mean anything, out of the ordinary since the attack?" Dean asked. "The feeling someone is following you. Colors being different. Jesus on a tortilla, anything?"

Megan glared at Dean. "That's your angle?"

"We're here to help," Sam replied. "And whatever it is you've seen, trust me, we've heard or seen worse ourselves."

"You real FBI?" Megan asked. 

"Yes," Sam said. "Please, tell us what you saw."

"Something out of the corner of my eye, it looked like a shadow," she said. "And I wasn't lying about the jump. I was thrown into the air. And when I was going unconscious, I saw people, like the Red Shadow but they were made of vapor or something. Dark, ice blue eyes. And a weird kind of laughter," she added. "Promise me you won't tell the doctors?"

"We won't," Dean replied. 

"Can you tell us what this Red Shadow looks like?" Sam asked. 

"I can do you one better," she replied. She handed him a USB thumb drive. "This has the video from the night I was attacked, and I have a drawing of him, too."

She reached under the nightstand and pulled out a series of pencil drawings.

Sam took the thumb drive and then the art. Dean's suspicious bubbled up.

"You just happened to gather this video from the night of your attack?" Dean asked. "Not to insinuate anything, but from my experience, people don't just give up security cam footage to civilians."

Megan swallowed hard. "Before I was attacked, the reports said first a young child, then a little person, like me, was attacking people and mugging them."

"You wanted to prove them wrong?" Sam asked.

"I wanted the attacks to stop," she said. "And the third person said the guy was wearing a superhero costume. I was worried that, if the guy remained uncaught – "

"Every, uh, little person, would be targeted in retaliation?" Dean asked.

"Yes," she replied. "I know a guy who has access to the security cams, so I asked him to get the tapes."

"Thank you, Megan," Sam said. "We'll get this guy, I promise."

 

"So, flying monkeys?" Dean said outside the hospital. "Or dude handing out a curse with muggings?"

"Dean, you went on your little donut run before you got to see the three other guys, two of which are in advanced stages of a paranoid – " Sam began.

"I didn't go on a donut run," Dean cut in. 

"Okay, well, burger? Pie? Whatever kind of run it was."

"What're you all pissed about?" 

"Me? I'm not pissed," Sam said casually. "But in case you haven't noticed, you've got – uh, relationship gut."

"Excuse me?" Dean said, hackles rising. 

"Just saying, now's no time to let yourself go – "

"Woah, woah!" Dean interjected. "I am not letting myself go. What's the matter with you?"

"Really? So that shirt always did that?" Sam said, pointing out the tightness in Dean's button-up shirt. 

"It shrunk in the wash," Dean griped, moving out to the car. "Shut up!"

 

"Maceo? Maceo can you hear me?" a woman asked.

Maceo Talley snapped back into the world. He had been submerged waist-deep into a daydream for what seemed like hours. It bogged him down.

"Yes?" Maceo said.

"Hi, I'm Annie Mellon," the woman said. "I was called for a psych consult."

"A psych consult?" Maceo repeated. "What for?"

"You've been daydreaming for prolonged periods," she said. "What about?"

"What is the psych consult for?" Maceo asked again.

"Just a formality – "

"You're lying," he cut her off. "Get out of my room! Now!"

Two nurses came into the room and moved toward his bed. 

"Get back, both of you!"

"Mr. Talley, please, calm down – " Annie began.

"I SAID GET BACK!" he howled. 

Both nurses stopped. Maceo pulled out his IV and threw his legs over the side of the bed to sit up straight.

"I'm checking myself out," he barked. "Now."

"Mr. Talley, I'm afraid that's not – " Annie began.

"You can't make me stay, and I'm checking out!"

"You can't check out, it's not safe," Annie replied. "Please, Mr. Talley, we can – "

"Get back!"

Maceo stood up and pushed his way past the first nurse; he hadn't counted on the three orderlies coming in to help. He fought them tooth and nail; whatever they were doing to the others he wouldn't let happen to him. 

"Mr. Talley, please stop struggling!" one of the orderlies yelled. 

"Sedate him!" Annie ordered.

"No, you'll have to kill me!" Maceo shrieked, throwing the orderlies off of him and crashing through the remaining personnel. He abandoned his clothing, his wallet, everything. He knew, just knew, he had to get out of this place. It smelled of death, infection, and evil – he had to get away.

 

Dean bickered with Sam all the way back to the car. He wouldn't let that relationship gut comment go.

They almost missed the commotion bubbling out of the hospital. It wasn't until a man dressed in a gown burst out of the doors that they both turned and stared. The mania in the man's eyes seemed overwhelming. 

"Holy crap," Sam said, turning back.

Dean's eyes slid from the man in the gown to the two shadows following him; except, they weren't shadows. They were people. 

He followed his brother back to hospital door; by the time they got there, orderlies had pinned the man down. 

"Maceo!" one of them kept repeating. "Mr. Talley! Please stop resisting!"

They tranquilized him. 

Sam moved in to speak to the woman who had followed the orderlies out. Dean's eyes lingered on the people beside him. One of them met his glance; whatever it was, it had ice-blue eyes. As soon as it recognized the eye contact, it and its fellow disappeared. 

"What happened?" Sam asked the woman.

"I came as a psych consult and suddenly he became manic and paranoid," Annie replied. "He managed to bowl over a few people before getting out here."

"I imagine," Dean commented joining the conversation.

"Can you tell us anything at all about his odd behavior?" Sam asked.

"I'm sorry, you are?" she asked.

"Agents Burgess and Colin," Dean flashed his badge. "He was one of the mugging victims, wasn't he?" 

"How did – " she began. 

"We're investigating the case," Sam cut her off. 

"A mugging case?" she asked.

"Muggings that seem to push the mental capacities of otherwise normal people," Sam said levelly. "You said you were called in for a psych consult. Can you tell us why?"

"He had been daydreaming for long periods of time, to the point of being unable to respond to his own name," she replied. "The other doctors were concerned the attack might have triggered some kind of trauma."

"So no reason for him to be catatonic?" Dean asked. "Physically, I mean."

"No, none, as far as the tests can tell," Annie replied. 

"Have you treated the others?" Sam asked. "Lane Rouse, Daniel Draper." 

"Yes."

"What can you tell us about their condition?" Sam asked.


	3. Starrider

"No, Cas, they were more like evil Keebler Elves," Dean said over the phone. 

"I don't know what that means," Cas replied.

"Repeat it to Kev, okay?"

"What did Sam see?"

"Nothing," Dean replied. "No figures, shadows, or dark shapes. He saw nothing."

"He couldn't see them?" Cas asked. "Or didn't see them?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"Did anyone else see them? Or indicate they noticed them?"

"No, I don't know."

"Well, I'll look into what this could be, but Dean... you should be careful," Cas said.

"I'm not seeing things, Cas. I'm not!"

"I didn't say you were," the angel replied quietly. "But if these entities are invisible to everyone except those they torment, then you could be a target and soon."

"Awesome."

"I'll call you back about these, uh, Evil Keebler Elves," Cas replied awkwardly.

Dean pocketed his phone. 

"What did Cas have to say?" Sam asked.

"Nothing, he's looking into it," Dean replied.

"Okay, well, I looked up what we've got – "

"Short super villain mugging people who start hitting real bad luck – "

"Not just bad luck," Sam cut in. "It's a very specific kind. They're put in mortal peril in normally safe circumstances – "

"Like crossing the street?"

"And another one of the victims – uh, Lane Rouse, yeah – she was working in her office over lunch when a fire broke out," Sam said. "And Dr. Mellon – "

"Who?" asked Dean. 

"Annie Mellon, the woman who talked with us for like an hour," Sam said. "What's wrong with you?"

Dean bit his lip. His brother mentioning the few pounds he gained was one thing, but seeing invisible people was another thing entirely. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. 

Finally, Dean said, "Nothing. Like I remember people's names."

Sam remained suspicious, but he continued, "Anyway, according to Dr. Mellon, everyone reported seeing these shadow people one way or another."

"They're not shadows! They're solid like everybody else," Dean replied. 

"But you were the only one who could see them," Sam pointed out. "Corporally, I mean."

"I'm not crazy – "

"I never said you were," Sam cut him off. 

Moments passed in silence. Finally, Sam continued, "Dean, if you were just anybody, yeah, I'd say your crazy, but you've been to Hell, Heaven, and Purgatory. That kind of thing can alter your perceptions."

"You mean like before the hellhounds had me for puppy chow? When I could see the demon's true faces?" Dean asked. "Something like that?"

"Yeah. These people were exposed to something that let them see a fraction of these shadows, people, whatever. Somewhere along the line, you were exposed to something that let's you see them, too."

"Sam, this would be a great theory and all except that all the crazy in my life is shared with you," Dean replied. "You've also spent some vacation days in Purgatory, Hell, Heaven. So why can't you see them?"

"Didn't I say a specific kind of bad luck?" Sam replied. 

Dean felt like he'd wandered into a thorn thicket in the dark. "What?"

"This particular brand of ridiculous is linked to, wait for it – "

"Seriously? Wait for it?"

"Dark elves."

Dean's face was one part confusion, one part surprise. "Dark elves?" he repeated. "Like – "

"The fake space aliens we ran into a few years ago, yeah," Sam replied. "When I was robo-Sam. That's why I didn't think of it before."

"Think of what before?"

"After you were, uh, abducted, you could see fairies, but I couldn't."

"So you think I can see fairies still?" Dean asked. 

"Probably."

"Wait, you could see Gilda," Dean pointed out. "So could Charlie – "

"That was a spell, Dean, not to mention a different kind of fairy."

"Okay, if you know what kind of fairy this is – "

"Dark elf."

"Right, dark elf, why don't we just go gank them?" Dean asked. "I can see them, so – "

"The reason," Sam cut his brother off, "is that there are other people who can see them. Sort of."

"Right well maybe this super villain guy is zapping them with some kind of fairy magic," Dean suggested. "Why does it matter?"

"Because he attacked someone else last night, named Gary Talon," Sam replied. "And before we stop these dark elves, we need to figure out this other guy."

Sam pulled out the drawings Megan gave them. 

"He's a red dark elf," Dean said.

"That's not a thing," Sam said. "I checked."

 

Cas rifled through the books Kevin had piled up between them just an hour ago. Everything Dean described reminded Castiel of something, but he couldn't quite grasp the thought, as if it were slippery. 

"I've heard this story before," Cas finally said out loud. 

"What?" Kevin asked. "What story?"

"About these attacks. The initial attack is minor but precipitates danger from other sources," Cas repeated. "Black and red."

"Black and red?" Kevin repeated. "What about them?"

"Dean said the initial attack was done by a man in red, the other attacks by men in black."

"Men in black? Dean said that?"

"No, he said short men that looked like shadow. Evil Keebler Elves, but black is appropriate substitution for shadow correct?" 

"Yes," Kevin replied. He was impressed at Castiel's acquired language skills. "You're starting to speak Dean."

"Speak Dean?" Cas repeated with his trademark look of confusion.

"Yeah, his lingo. I mean, his expressions are starting to make sense to you," Kevin explained.

"Sometimes," Cas replied.

"Okay, so – " Kevin began, but his phone interrupted his thought. He checked his messages and saw the following:

SAM: What attracts Dark Elves? How can people see Dark Elves? Let us know what you find.

"What is it?" Cas asked.

"Something about Dark Elves," Kevin said. "Look."

The angel looked at the message and his eyes widened. 

"Yes, I remember this – " Cas moved back to the books and uncovered one of the last ones in the pile. 

Kevin spotted the title, and he asked, "Urban Legends?" 

"Yes, about a hundred years ago this same problem happened in Detroit," Cas said as he flipped open to the page. 

"Really?" Kevin asked skeptically.

 

"Sorry, say that again," Dean said into his phone. 

"Nain Rouge," Kevin replied. "The Red Dwarf or Red Gnome. It apparently terrorized people in Detroit for a while till he was locked up in the sixties."

"Locked up?" Dean repeated. "How'd he get out?"

"Cas said you'd be upset."

"Kevin."

"He thinks that the Nain Rouge was locked up in the Catacombs – "

"The place that Kuravi bitch got us to open up?" Dean asked. 

"That's what Cas thinks, but he's not sure. He thought hunters had locked the Red Dwarf away in a cave warded against fairy magic."

"What wards against fairy magic?" Dean asked.

"Other fairy magic, obviously."

"Obviously," Dean repeated sarcastically. "Any ideas on how to gank him now?"

"Uh, no. Silver hurts all dark fairies, and iron hurts all fairies, but we don't know what kind of fairy the Nain Rouge is."

"Awesome."

 

Sam wandered down the street, looking over the broad dynamics. Cameras were everywhere, so he kept his face away from them. Whoever did this had to be using supernatural means, but why would anyone mug people and set dark elves to torture them afterward? 

Click-clack. Click-clack. Click-clop!

Sam turned just in time to see a pair of heavy-heeled boots heading straight towards his body. He took a hard hit to the solar plexus, which forced all the air out of his lungs. As he collapsed, he saw the glint of red eyes and an evil, pointed smile. 

Sam grasped his short knife from his front pocket and slashed at the man widely. The blade was silver-plaited, and while it left a hefty gash, it had no effect otherwise. Sam followed up with a sharp left hook, which knocked the man off of him. 

"Don't think I won't be back!" the creature bellowed as he rushed off.

Sam swore he saw a cape flapping behind the guy. A fairy in red boots and cape? Assuming this guy wasn't new to hunters, someone must have spotted him before. 

The younger Winchester stood upright, and a passerby asked him, "You alright?" 

"Agent Colin, FBI," Sam said waving his badge. "I'm fine."


	4. Rev on the Red Line

"You let the guy get away?" Dean asked as Sam put ice on his side. 

"No, Dean, the guy knocked me on my ass and I slashed him. Then he ran away before I could catch my breath."

Dean couldn't suppress his laughter. "You got bowled over by an elf. You. You're like two of him."

"A little bit of focus, Dean," Sam said. "What did you find out?"

"This guy was around about a hundred years ago, doing the same thing in Detroit. Some hunters locked him away in the Catacombs back in the sixties." 

"Hunters knew about the Catacombs?" Sam asked.

"I don't think so," Dean replied. "Seems more like they found a spot that could hold him and shoved his ass in. Didn't waste time thinking about it."

"Okay, so where's this guy from?"

"I asked Charlie to talk to Gilda about it, since she's – "

"Also a fairy, sure. What'd she say?"

"His name is Galaad, he was one a prince exiled from Avalon because of his love of chaos," Dean replied. 

"Wait, hold on," Sam said as he pulled up a file on his computer. "Bobby had something about that – "

"You digitalized Bobby's stuff?" 

"Some of it. Most of it, actually," Sam replied. "Listen to this: The Nain Rouge's presence was marked with undue chaos because with him comes a plague of dark elves who seek to win his favor through the tricks and curses they cast upon his chosen victims."

"Win his favor?" Dean asked. "Like he's king of Avalon?" 

"Well, he was an heir to the throne at one point," Sam replied. "Maybe they think he'll return with them and they'll gain control over Avalon or something."

"Okay, so if we gank him, you think we'll need to worry about the Evil Keebler bastards?" Dean asked. 

"I'm guessing yes."

"Good, otherwise I made us a crapload of silver bullets for nothing."

"Dean, you're missing something."

"Missing? What?"

"We don't know how to kill this guy," Sam pointed out. "Hunters fifty years ago couldn't figure it out, so – "

"Hunters fifty years ago weren't us," Dean reminded his younger brother. "Maybe we need to try something like this."

Dean pulled out an angel blade. 

"Really?" Sam asked.

"What you think we'll need the Colt?" Dean asked.

"I think we should talk to Gilda again," Sam replied. 

"The angel blades kill everything – "

"Not Leviathan."

"They're different – "

"Fairies are different, too," Sam cut him off. "They're not on the demon/angel spectrum. Maybe not even on the Leviathan/monster spectrum. We can't just hope the same brute force will work on them."

"Wait, Lucifer himself said the Colt could kill all but five things – "

"Lucifer? You're going to go with him on this one?" Sam snapped. "We know it can't kill him. We saw that, but you're gonna take his word on it?"

"You think he lied?"

"Even if he was telling the truth," Sam said, "his big sin was pride Dean, remember? He considered all the Pagan gods a waste of space. What makes you think he'd even think about fairies?"

"Fine," Dean said, frustrated. "What do you suggest?"

"I suggest we get Charlie on the phone and asked her about all this. Maybe Gilda can fill in a few blanks."

"Sam," Dean warned. 

His brother hadn't seen it: a dark shape appeared in the room. Its blue eyes sparkled slightly cold as it sized the two Winchesters up.

"What?"

"Silver bullets," Dean whispered as quietly as possible.

"Right – "

It happened in the blink of an eye. The creature moved towards Sam's chair; Dean shot at its head. He hit his mark, and it stopped. The dark elf was dead. 

"No – "

The voice came from another dark elf. Sam reacted instinctively; he could see barely more than its outline. Still, he hit his mark: his silver knife sank down into its neck. 

"What the hell?" Dean asked.

"Well, their boss did attack me," Sam replied. "They're doing their follow up thing."

"Then I think we need to do our light them on fire thing," Dean replied. "Just in case these guys are contagious, too."

 

Cas opened his phone; it said the call was from an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Castiel?" asked a woman's voice.

"Who is this?"

"My name is Brandy," she said. "I was Naomi's vessel for a time."

"I see."

"Is this Castiel?"

"What do you want?"

"I have information for you," she replied. "I wanted to tell Sam or Dean, but I couldn't. I, uh, choked I guess you can say. So I will ask one last time: is this Castiel?"

"Yes."

"Good, then listen closely, please."

 

"Charlie?" Dean said into his phone. 

"Hey Dean," Charlie said happily. "Gilda told me that fairies don't usually stay in this realm unless summoned because it's dangerous for them."

"Dangerous how?"

"Apparently, in Avalon, only a few things can actually hurt fairies, but here on Earth, plenty of things can."

"I like that, keep going."

"She said a fairy impaled on a bone of any animal loyal to humankind will die."

"She didn't happen to mention which animals, did she?" Dean asked.

"No, sorry. Wasn't exactly a hot topic," Charlie replied. "And I'd rather not have to grill her on it again, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, thanks Charlie. You rock."

"I know it. Now go kill that jerk, bitches!"

"Will do, thanks."

 

 **Lawrence, Kansas**. Castiel paced through Stull Cemetery, avoiding the area he came here to examine. Everything inside him told him that this was a trap; Naomi wanted to capture him and this was her method.

Kevin walked a few paces behind the angel. After about an hour, he finally spoke up.

"Castiel, it's over this way."

The angel followed the prophet to a small cleft in the earth. It was subtle; had he not been looking for it, he would have assumed it was simply the shape of the earth. But it wasn't. The cleft ran through an area of the cemetery that Cas recognized. This was where he found Dean kneeling after Sam jumped into the pit with Lucifer and Adam/Michael. 

"It's true?" Cas asked Kevin. "It can't be."

"Look around us."

It took the angel a moment before he saw what Kevin meant. Around them in every direction, vegetation was decimated. Cas never understood how powerful denial could be before this moment. He should have seen this as soon as they drove here. 

"Let's go," Kevin insisted. "Just because it's true doesn't mean this isn't a trap."

The angel nodded needlessly as he walked back to the pickup truck. 

"I'll drive," Kevin offered.

"Maybe Jesse caused this when he raised Adam out of the cage," Cas suggested as they pulled away. "No matter how powerful he is, he would still require a mode of egress – "

"Cas," Kevin interrupted, "Even if Jesse did make that crack, you think he made the vegetation die out?"

"When someone is resurrected, that can happen."

"I think it would be best if we assume the worse possible scenario," Kevin replied. "Then if that's not the case, we can be pleasantly surprised for once."

"You sound angry," Cas remarked. 

"When God gave me that message – " Kevin began. He stopped. Then he corrected himself, "If God gave me that message for Jesse, and this is what happened? Of course I'm angry."

"You think you were tricked?"

"I feel used, one way or another," Kevin replied. "Wouldn't you?"

"Yes."


	5. Street Thunder

Sam bounded up a bundle of sharpened bone; Dean examined his own weapon.

"Sammy, what the hell is this?"

"It's Sam," he replied tritely. "And this is bone from horse, cow, dog, and cat."

"Gross!"

"The vet only gave them to me after I assured her we needed them for health testing," Sam added. "Fair warning."

"Awesome. So, what, we troll the street for this guy with our, uh, bones out?" Dean smiled at his own joked. 

"That whole strip he attacks in is covered with cameras," Sam pointed out. "We need to get him to attack us."

"Okay, how – "

"He said he'd come after me next, right? So let's go somewhere a little less Big Brother-ish."

 

Deserted streets, as it so happens, are easy to find in St. Claire, Michigan. Sam settled to marching up and down a road that had nothing but closed shops.

Red eyes glinted from everywhere. Without any warning, Sam found himself pinned on the ground under the boot of a violently bright shade of red. His entire body felt heavy, as if his blood had turned to lead.

"Sorry, sunny boy," the Nain Rouge chirped. "You got bigger fish to fry than lil' me."

"I'll be the judge of that – " Sam choked out. 

Sam thrust the bone up towards his assailant, but the Nain Rouge knocked it out of his hands.

"Huh, none of you hunters ever thought of that before," he remarked mildly. "You might be worth more than a quick kill."

Sam punched him, wondering what was keeping Dean back. No sooner had the thought occurred to him than Dean busted out of the shadows, slamming the bundle of sharpened bones straight into the dwarf's stomach.

The Nain Rouge collapsed, looking up at Dean with hatred in his eyes.

"You'll regret that," he hissed as his body began to melt. "I coulda helped you with what's coming for you two. It would've been a good story: an old enemy comes back to kill you, and the fairy, outcast from his own people, helps the hunters survive. Too bad - "

Whatever else he planned to say bubbled out as vapor as his melted body turned from soup to shadow to salt. 

"What the hell?" Dean asked. 

"I don't know, let's just get out of here – "

"Yeah, will do."

 

Dean sat behind the wheel of his baby, the Impala. Sam grabbed another roadside snack, and he was taking his sweet time.

"Beefy jerky and, you're gonna love this, pie bites!" Sam said as he took shotgun. 

"Pie bites?"

"Yeah like bites of pie, so you can eat and drive."

Dean inspected the new foodstuff. "The idea is one thing, but to be sure, we need to test."

The both tried it. Dean nodded his head pointlessly. "I like it. You're officially my favorite brother."

"Shut up and drive."

Even Led Zeppelin couldn't drown out the silence of the car. 

"You think he knew something?" Dean asked Sam. "The Dwarf."

"He was exiled from Avalon because he loved to create chaos. He lived for it, so I wouldn't take him too seriously."

"Then why do you sound so upset?"

Sam took a moment. "Naomi's vessel drops from the sky and gives us a crap cryptic message. Dodge is getting divine dreams or something. That kinda stuff is big, Dean. Like the day you were raised outa Hell big. The day I broke open the cage big, the – "

"I get it," Dean interrupted. "Crap going down. I don't like it anymore than you do. But what he said about an old enemy – "

"Don't," Sam said. "Just don't, Dean. That could be anyone we've come into contact with in our lives. Hell, it could be someone Dad locked away for all we know."

Dean indulged in the pie bites. He felt better. He glanced over at Sam to see that he had drifted off to sleep. This made Dean smile. 

He wanted to be back at the Bunker right now. He wanted to curl up with Castiel and sleep. Right now. The desperate desire to sleep was like a yawn waiting to extend beyond himself; it built up behind his eyes. All he needed to do to indulge in its whim was to blink. Just once. And all would be right with him. 

Dead couldn't hear the cassette tape playing, even though it was blaring. He didn't feel like anything was wrong. The tremendous craving for his entire substance to lapse into unconsciousness slid over him like a glove. 

Dean did not hear his phone ring. He did not sense impending danger. He did not smell the pie bites he had left open. He did not see anything. His eyes shut, and his mind elevated away from his body. Everything was one and whole and beautiful such that words could not describe – 

And then the world awoke around him. Led Zeppelin, his phone, the smell of food, the smell of his and Sam's aftershave, the sensation of vibration, the sound of the wheels and honking. Dred and danger and anguish exploded out of him. 

He opened his eyes just in time to feel his body react to the crash. The Impala hit the guard rail, turned upward and continued its forward momentum, and then rotated so the back of the car struck a tree and threw it mercifully off road and into a ditch.

A new kind of unconsciousness enveloped Dean.

 

"Cas," Kevin pleaded. "Sam and Dean aren't answering their phones."

"Dean called me a few hours ago to tell me they were on their way back. They closed up the case."

"Right, but neither one is responding at all," Kevin said. "Something's wrong, Castiel. Please."

"I will investigate. Stay here."

"Okay, just come right back. Okay?"


End file.
